The motel phone rings: it's the front desk guy asking if I'd like to stay another week. I tell him no, pack up, and go. At this point, I'm exhausted. My next destination is 4 hours away, and there's no way I'm making that in this condition. So I go to the Las Cruces Rest Area to take a nap. I've slept at a lot of Rest Areas, I've peed at a lot of Rest Areas, but this'll be the first time I've taken a midday nap at a Rest Area.
I wake up an hour and a half later. I feel much better, so I go into a Starbucks on the edge of town to plan out my next couple days, but I end up planning the whole trip out to Atlanta because I RSVP-ed to attend a wedding in Marietta. Marietta is near Atlanta, so I wanted to make sure I could make it there without skipping some places and backtracking later. By the time I'd finished, this is how my schedule looked.
13th
Carlsbad
Carlsbad Caverns National Park
Guadalupe Mountains National Park
Van Horn => I-10 Rest Area
14th
Van Horn
Big Bend National Park
Fort Stockton => I-10 Rest Area
15th
Fort Stockton
The Alamo => Kim's friend
16th
Kim's friend
Austin (Get mail from Mat)
Houston => Kevin's son
17th
Kevin's son
Baton Rouge, LA
New Orleans
Slidell => Westbound Welcome Center
18th
Westbound Welcome Center
New Orleans
Wesson, MS => I-55 Rest Area
19th
Wesson
Jackson
Birmingham, AL
Clanton => I-65 Rest Area
20th
Clanton
Montgomery
Tallahassee, FL
Lee => I-10 Rest Area
21st
Lee
Tampa
Fort Myers => I-75 Exit 131 Rest Area
22nd
Fort Myers
Biscayne National Park
Miami
Weston => I-75 Rest Area
23rd
Weston
Everglades National Park
Key West
24th
Key West
Florida City => Walmart
25th
Florida City
Kennedy Space Center
St. Augustine => I-95 Rest Area
26th
St. Augustine
Jacksonville
Atlanta, GA => Aunt Debbie
So there you go: with the exception of Key West, where I may have to get a regretfully expensive motel, I've got a place to stay up to Atlanta, but if you have someone nearby the Rest Area/Walmart cities, it's always greatly appreciated you point them my way. And also as always, especially since I'm getting closer to home, if you want to meet me somewhere, feel free to tag along.
My next two destinations are right next to each other, so I'd like to get em out of the way together, but that means driving to Carlsbad today, so most of the next 4 hours are spent on an empty, static radio highway. Once there, I snuggle into a Walmart parking lot, do some offline typing, and go to sleep.
* * * * *
My first destination of the day is Carlsbad Caverns National Park, or more specifically, the bathroom outside their Visitors Center since I didn't want to go back into Walmart this morning. When I come out, I see a pretty lady sitting on a bench who's boyfriend is heading into the bathroom. The closest Visitors Center door to me has a handicapped buttons so it'll open automatically. Being a man, and being near a pretty lady, my mind foolishly confuses itself into thinking this is the proper time to prove my masculinity; handicapped buttons? Psh, those are for handicapped people.
So I'm very astonished when I grab the door, pull as hard as I can, and can only manage to jerk it open about 7 inches.
InnerSelf: "WHY IS THIS DOOR SO FREAKING HEAVY?"
I consider letting go and just going for the one beside it, but it's too late: I've started this, now, for the purpose of my manhood, I must finish it. I start leaning my body back, hoping gravity will take over.
InnerSelf2: "I know I haven't been working out, but it hasn't been this long has it?"
InnerSelf: “IT'S GOTTA BE MADE OF STONE OR SOMETHING!”
Then there's a twinge of extreme pain that starts in my hand and follows all the way down to my pride, as I think of the pretty lady behind me who's boyfriend will probably open the next door over which will require 60 pounds less of force to open. I finally throw the pride aside, press my foot to the opposite door and kick off to crack it open like a shell, realizing shortly after, my hand still hurts...it might be fractured...I may have broken my hand opening a door - this is not one to tell the grandchildren about.
Having to go in and out of the Center several times, I try the handicapped door again (surprise, it's still heavy) as well as others, which are much lighter. The lesson is, don't use handicapped people's stuff.
While Carlsbad Caverns had a nice view on the drive in...
...the park is intended to show off a cave. The most impressive thing I saw was at the very mouth of the cave: bats. There's an entire swarm of bats flying circles in front of you as you make your way down into the caverns. I felt like I was Batman.
You aren't supposed to take pictures of the bats in flight, I assume to not interfere with their echolocation, but there are also birds that look like bats, and I couldn't tell which these were. But the lady in front of me was taking pictures, so I figured I wouldn't be saving any bats by not doing it, so I took some pictures too. But whatever they were, they were too small and fast to catch on camera, so I've got nothing to show for it, but none of them ran into each other while I was taking pictures, so I don't feel too bad for it.
Once I was deep enough in the cave I stopped hearing bats, I started using my camera again. It's so dark though, it's hard to take pictures of anything. The park has a lighting system set up to show off some of their more impressive features, so I got some good shots, but even the best ones are a little fuzzy.
This is the story of Carlsbad Caverns as I understand it - long ago, the floor of this cave was a piece of seabed: there were no cave walls, ceilings, or pointy rock features, it was just a piece of land under an ocean. After a while, a corral reef started to grow. Eventually, the ocean left, and the coral dried up and developed cracks in it, like chap lips made of polyp skeletons. Then sand, pebbles, and other sediment moved in and buried the coral deep under what would become a piece of solid rock, but after some time, the rock eroded away enough that rain water could seep down through the cracks of the coral. While this was all happening, oil fields were developing underground. The gas from the oil mixed with the seeping rain water in such a way that sulfuric acid was formed. The acid ate away at everything around it until the caverns were made, but at this point, the wall, ceilings, and floors were smooth.
Rain water kept dropping through the ceiling, but acid wasn't being made (I don't know why). Every drop would absorb some of the sediment it seeped through to get there, and before dripping would release some or all of that sediment onto the ceiling. After enough of these drips, a stalactite was formed.
After the drop of water fell, if it still contained some sediment, it would release the rest onto the floor. When enough of these drips fell, a stalagmite would form. If there was no sediment, a puddle may form, making small, underground ponds with no connected water source.
Now if you're like me, it might be hard to remember the difference between stalactites and stalagmites, so I wanted to come up with an easy way to do it. One way is to think, stalactites have a c, for ceiling, and stalagmites have a g, for ground. The problem is, when I say them, sometimes I put a g in both, so if you're put on the spot and can't remember which one has the c/g, remember that only superheroes wear 'tites', and superheroes can fly, so only superheroes can touch the ceiling. 'Mites' aren't superheroes at all, so they should stay on the ground.
There are other formations in the cave, too, like drapes, which are made when a water drop slides down a curve of the ceiling, releasing sediment along the entire path:
There's also popcorn, which I'm not sure how it's made, but is named after it looking like popcorn:
When a stalactite and its opposite stalagmite meet, they can form into one piece which is called a column:
This thing just looks like the devil; I couldn't tell what it was:
Near the end of the cave was some guano, or bat poop. I'd always thought guano was white, but this was red, so that bat may wanna see a proctologist.
Here are some other okay pictures I got:
By the time you reach the end of the caverns, you're hundreds of feet underground, so the exit is an elevator. I took it up, went to my car, and drove 30 minutes southwest to Guadalupe Mountains National Park.
The coral that helped form Carlsbad Caverns stretched a long way, so what was dissolved by acid was just part of it. Another part of it sits on top of the Guadalupe Mountains. The mountains were pushed up from the ground, and the coral was on top of that ground, so now they're up there, too. Pictured above is Mount Guadalupe, the tallest peak in Texas, which I'll be hiking today. It's about 4 miles to the top and is 8749 feet high.
The hike starts out simple enough. The terrain is desert, so I packed lightly, the trail is somewhat maintained, but 30 minutes or so into it, I realize this is a really high mountain.
“This is a really high mountain,” I tell myself. I keep looking over at the mountain across from Mount Guadalupe to get an idea of how far I have to go: "If this mountain is the highest in Texas, I've gotta climb higher than all the mountains around me, which means...I'm no more than a quarter of the way up. Sh*t." I thought I was gonna turn the corner and be done pretty soon, but I guess not. This mountain is to my hiking skill what one of those 2 inch jawbreakers is to candy: it just never goes away. Inside I tell myself, “Why does this mountain have to be so high?" as if it didn't try hard enough in mountain school to figure out how to adjust it's height to satisfy my laziness.
After about halfway up I start to get hungry. I've got half a Walmart sandwich in my bag, but there's not a good spot to stop, so I decide to keep going until I'm on top: I'm determined to not eat this sandwich until I find a good spot to eat it.
After hours of struggling up, I finally reach what I'm pretty sure is the top, and that's where I meet Brit. Brit is a tall, skinny, middle-later-aged white guy with gray hair, a beard, cargo pants, and Nordic poles. When he sees me, he gives a big cheery hi, and I say hi back, and then he says, “So you going to the summit?” He points over, and about half a mile through airspace and another 400 feet in elevation is the peak of the mountain: I wasn't sure what I wanted to say.
Me: “Yeah...”
InnerSelf: "...I guess."
Brit: “Awesome! Looks like we're only about a mile from reaching it, should only take another 30 minutes.”
InnerSelf: "Man, this looks like a good spot to stop and eat a sandwich."
While inside I'd rather take a break, I figure it's better motivation to team up with Brit and head to the top of Mount Guadalupe. On the way, he tells me he's a film maker. He worked for the news for years but has lately been making inspirational, religious-based documentaries. He was in Texas to visit his parents and has a mission to climb all the highest state peaks so he decided to hit Texas while he was nearby. Aside from being very religious, Brit is also from Colorado, so he's no stranger to climbing high mountains, which explains why he's way more happy about climbing this mountain than I am. Talking with each other, I bring up I have a blog, but not that I have an entry called, “Colorado Sucks” on it.
Heading further, I spot two giant circles in the distance. Brit says they're crop circles (seriously) and they have something to do with irrigation. As soon as he mentions irrigation, I think of vegetables. My hunger kicks in, and I think, "Man, I could go for some collard greens right now. Why do I want collard greens so bad? I want collard greens like a pregnant woman wants chocolate. I would kill a chipmunk right now if somebody told me it was stuffed with collard greens. Ooo, or green beans!”
Around the next bend, we run into someone coming down the mountain. It's a tall, skinny, middle-later-aged white man with gray hair, a beard, cargo pants, and Nordic poles. My first thought is, "Do all middle-aged hippies look alike?" There personalities are totally different though. We talk with him a little while before I can tell he's ready to go, but Brit keeps talking. As I said, Brit is really religious. Like, knocking on your door to ask, "Can I take a moment to talk to you about Jesus," religious, so he likes to be very friendly and talkative, but new hippy is definitely trying to get on his way.
Before he leaves, we discuss with bizarro-Brit how much further it is to the peak: we're about 200 feet away...vertically. We continue on until Brit turns to me and says, “There it is,” pointing over at a pyramid planted at the peak of the mountain. “Congratulations, you made it!” “Thanks.” I return no such condolence due to a mixture of exhaustion and feeling like it wasn't hard for Brit anyway, so it would just be patronizing.
My knees are so sore I consider only taking pictures of 2 of the 3 sides of the pyramid, but pushing to the third, I find a metal ammunition box at its foot. Inside is a book for people to sign who have made it to the top. It says, "March," on the front even though it's April, but Brit and I sign it anyway.
Everything is remarkably smaller up here: it's a good reminder of what scale humans are to the planet.
After breaking at the top, and eating an amazing half a Walmart sandwich, we head back down. Those who have been following closely know I sometimes make jabs at the use of Nordic walking poles ever since the old women at Canyonlands didn't know how to mind their own business, but when Brit goes down the mountain, he's like a galloping horse with those things. There are times I have trouble keeping up, and I'm sure his knees weren't hurting as much as mine either. I still won't be buying them any soon since I don't hike enough outside of this trip for it, but I have a new respect for them.
After we get down the mountain, I give Brit some pictures I took for him because his camera was acting up, we say bye, and I think, "I feel like throwing up." It doesn't happen, but it's definitely the hardest I've pushed myself, cardiovascular wise, on a trail so far.
I drive a couple hours south to Van Horn, Texas. I've tried brisket and a hamburger from Texas, but I'd still like to try a steak, BBQ, and baked beans. I find a steak place and try it out. They don't have collard greens, but they do have green beans, so I get those as well as ranch beans, which I assumed, and were, pretty much baked beans. I didn't consider it when ordering, but getting 2 types of beans while living in a car was probably not a good idea.
The steak was kind've rough, which was surprising since it seemed like a nice restaurant, but what seemed more important is the outside had more char to it than what I'm used to. If it was just this restaurant, I wouldn't think much of it, but the hamburger I ate had a char taste to it, and Kaylea's brisket, while the best I'd ever eaten, had a thicker crust than what I was used to. I still wanna try the BBQ, but it seems like Texas does have a taste to it, and it's the taste of a charbroiled crust.
After dinner, I head to a Rest Area. I realize I have a Jarritos fruit soda left from my last night in Las Cruces. I don't have a bottle opener though, and Jarritos, even though it's a fruit soda, is not twist off. So I go outside, find a brick wall, and try multiple times to pry the cap off with it. There were truckers in their truck right beside me who I can only assume thought I was already half drunk trying to break into another Sangria, but nobody started trouble with me over it and I rested easy the rest of the night.
If you got a sirloin that's why it was rougher. Should've gotten a ribeye :)
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